An Apple A Day
by letmel0veyoudown
Summary: Mummy used to say an apple a day made the doctor go away, but that didn't mean Sherlock had to throw all the apples out the flat. Established relationship. Humor. Sherlock being cute & slightly OOC. No beta, sorry!


John walked up the stairs to the flat, opening the door, "Sherlock, I'm back."

"Where did you go," he scoffed, of course the brilliant daft bastard hasn't even deduced that he left, "you just missed me explaining all about the new ca-"

John was already in the kitchen putting away the new tea, milk, and weird cookies that Sherlock liked.

"John."

"Yes Sherlock?" He didn't even look up he just kept on moving the experiments around the table and he was about to put apples away into the cupboard.

"I don't suggest opening that one unless you want a row right now."

John pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. "Thanks for warning me at least. How about next time there's nothing to be worried ab-

Sherlock's mind was already flying, John's nagging tuned to background noise.

_Apples. Apples. American comp. electronics. Juice, fruit. Good for you. Apples good for health and nutrition-_

_No. Bad. An apple a day kept t-_

"No," was all he said and suddenly Sherlock all but flew, grabbing the bag from Tesco's and chucked it out the window.

Once Sherlock heard them hit the ground and a man, middle aged, a routine walk around the block recommended by his doctor, slightly overweight, yelled, "Oi! Watch what you're throwing."

He heard John take three deep breaths, _agitated, stressed, already bad day at work, was fine when coming back from Tesco's but now-_

_Ah. Throwing bag of apples out the window. Bit not good._

"John, I-"

"I think I'm going to go for a walk, yeah? Don't follow."

* * *

Sherlock just stood and let his flatmate walk out. Following John would result in more rows, and then John not on his bed, and John not in his bed meant not sleeping, and then he'd would be wired and that meant patches or violin at three in the morning.

Apples. Technology. Company, ah-

Come back home so I can explain  
SH

I have reasons behind this I'm not completely mad  
SH

Ill buy you more fruit if you like  
SH

You've turned off your phone  
SH

John was at the pub, watching a rugby match. He hated when he resorted to this, it scared him and made him feel weak. But he was no Harry and didn't come out here everyday like she used to. Just sometimes with his old uni mates or Greg after a stressful case or a terrible day like this.

Three screaming children getting shots, one of the which passed out, one child puked on him, all of his schedule was moved half an hour back since some kid decided to start crying and screaming before his lunch break throwing a fit demanding a better doctor who wouldn't give him medication since he thought they were 'icky.'

Really bad day.

Then comes home to Sherlock immediately rambling about the new case with a patch already and demanded for coffee and that they needed milk. He loved Sherlock in his element, he was brilliant. But, only around four in the afternoon with a patch already? Bit not good.  
His phone beeped for the third time, and he turned it off.

After bout two hours; John started to go back to the flat.  
Not really buzzed even, he only had a beer and a half before a really pretty brunette started hitting on him. She was only a few inches shorter than him, with pretty green gray eyes. She seemed just like John's type. But for once John just couldn't; she was all curves and just not - not Sherlock. So he went home. He turned on his phone and scanned through the texts.

The latest one 7 minutes ago,

Please  
SH

It was their first row since they've been 'together'  
_Boyfriends partners lovers together._  
John, shaken by his realization decided to take a cab instead of walking.  
_Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock. Not good with change. Already freaked out first time they kissed. Not good no good. Emotions don't process. Rows, leaving, bad, bad._

John raced up the stairs, "Sherlock? You alright?"

Sherlock was sprawled all over the couch not so gracefully as he usually was, with two patches now. He sat up, attentive and excited and anxious and worried, "John."

John walked forward tracing this madman's cheekbones, "Hi Sherlock," he smiled. How he ended up this lucky with such a beautiful gorgeous man he had no idea. Sherlock's eyes were big and worried and searching John deducing where he just went and after a few seconds Sherlock let out a breath he didn't know he as holding.

"Thought you left. I didn't go buy more fruit, thought you went to Harry's didn't want to move too conflicted. Emotions, John! How do you all deal with this all the time," he complained, obviously exasperated. He looked up at his John and all he could find was affection.

John gave a small laugh, "No Sherlock, I wouldn't leave after a row like that." His eyes filled with concern and something else Sherlock didn't register, or maybe he just didn't know if he was ready to acknowledge, "You know that right?" Sherlock looked back down, _not good then. Over reacting. Rubbish at emotions, new field of study, needed to read into_, he mumbled a 'no.'

He felt more pressure at his chin where Johns finger lifted his head towards him and then-  
_Oh. Good then? No, just affection, desire, and still concern._ Johns lips were on his, gentle though. He pulled back only seconds after. "I wouldn't leave you Sherlock, ever," John's voice was lower and _oh gods his voice. Good very good. Needed more John. Skin contact. Clothes not good. Needed m-_

"Ah," John cut him off. "Not so fast you cheeky bastard," John straddled his lap, now forehead to forehead. "Tell me first , why'd you throw _all_ my bloody apples out the window."

Sherlock blushed, turning his face away from John. _Stupid, stupid emotions, brain too fast, rash decisions, scared._

John kissed his cheek and then kissed lower towards his neck, biting in the right spots. "Oh," Sherlock moaned. His senses were overloaded, trying to categorize every moment of it. "Ah, so he speaks," John smirked, his fingers tracing patters on his skin under his shirt. _Shirt off now shirt why on, Johnnnnn._

John murmured against his skin, "Just tell me why, then I'll take it off." Oh, he was speaking out loud he hadn't realized.

John loved it when Sherlock got like this, it felt nice to have the upper hand for once. Then Sherlock whined, literally like a child. Keeping his face away, chin up acting defiant.

Sherlock stumbled over his words, "Mummy used to say an apple a day keeps the doctor away and my mind palace was running fast too fast and apples and doctors and you're a doctor and look they did make you go away so it's simply not my fault I made rash decisions but emotions are so sensitive how do you all even l-"

John laughed and kissed him and his tongue slipped in and he bit his lower lip, oh very good.

"You silly man," he whispered, "Rather romantic for a man who doesn't even believe in love," then continuing the attack on the younger mans neck.

"Bedroom?"  
"Thought your never ask."


End file.
